


Predictable Loops

by mrsthessaly



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Near Future, Pining, Reunions, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsthessaly/pseuds/mrsthessaly
Summary: “Fucking Gilfoyle…”Dinesh’s mouth dragged the words out, rolling them on his tongue, testing the stride, as if he was plugging in an old, dated machine.The man by the door turned around."Chugtai", he said. Dinesh was still having trouble figuring out if it was really Bertram Gilfoyle in there until he heard that voice. The flat, emotionless tone was the same. The eyes too.





	Predictable Loops

* * *

  _We both know that it's time to go_  
_We both know you're going to stay_

 **I Don't Know Why I Like You - but I do**  (The Wombats)

* * *

1- Epilogue | 2- Middle (Out) | 3- Prologue

* * *

 

 **I –** **All good reunions happen** **at bars**

     “Fucking Gilfoyle…” 

     Dinesh’s mouth dragged the words out, rolling them on his tongue, testing the stride, as if he was plugging in an old, dated machine. 

       The man by the door turned around. 

      "Chugtai", he said. Dinesh was still having trouble figuring out if it was really Bertram Gilfoyle in there until he heard that voice. The flat, emotionless tone was the same. The eyes too. 

      Dinesh reacted with a snort. If that encounter hadn’t been the last event he was expecting from his afternoon, it was so on point it could have been scripted. “How are you doing, man? Back in the Valley?” 

      Gilfoyle made something that almost sounded like a laugh, but was too dry, and reached for his phone. He looked a lot different. “Not until I can still bite back", he answered, eyes glued to the screen. 

    A pair of rings hung from Gilfoyle’s ears. It was the first thing Dinesh noticed. The second thing he noticed, other than the eyes and the voice being the same, was that he could see Gilfoyle’s ears. Right. The hair used to be long. 

      The pierced ears should look ridiculous in a man that age, but it was Gilfoyle, and he always wore anything with too much confidence to be questioned. Dinesh remembered how he used to feel threatened by that solid self-assurance. Now, with his hair going gray on the sides, considering himself rather successful, he couldn't quite get it. 

      He felt something else that wasn't threatened. 

      He called it nostalgia. 

      When the moment Gilfoyle took looking at his phone became too long, Dinesh noticed he wasn’t being invited to extend the conversation any further. It could have ended there, and Dinesh would have told Jared and Richard back in the office that they wouldn’t fucking guess who was in town, and they would gasp, or roll their eyes, or something, but a demining urge to be seen that he thought he left behind years ago came over him. Truth is, he was thinking about Gilfoyle just the other day. 

     “What are you here for?" Gilfoyle looked up, as if he expected Dinesh to have left already and was again surprised by his presence. Dinesh almost gasped. Those fucking eyes still made him stop on his tracks; measuring him, provoking him, exposing high and heavily guarded walls. But they weren’t talking out a fight - or at least Dinesh never thought they were fighting, just, you know, out of touch - so he tried out a smile and dug out a dusty challenging tone: "You know what, I did saw a goat on the road earlier. Are we having a Satanist convention or something?” 

     Gilfoyle said nothing. For a moment, drowning in silence, Dinesh felt exactly like he did in his late twenties when Erlich introduced him to that man. But then Gilfoyle sighed, the phone going back in the inner pocket of his blazer, a crack showing in the way he turned to fully face Dinesh, and he decided it was absurd to cling on those details. He wasn’t that man anymore. “I’m being stood up by Avi Galinski, apparently”, said Gilfoyle, no dusty provocation showing. 

      “The PrintBlock guy?” 

      “Yup.” 

      “You have a meeting with him?” 

      “Yup.” 

      “You hate Galinski. He’s a nightmare.” 

      Galinski used to be on PiperNet’s heels on user privacy after that breach a couple years ago. Or more than a couple years ago, now that he was thinking about it. Gilfoyle was still with them when that happened. They hated Galinski. 

      Gilfoyle blinked. Then he blinked again, taking so long to respond Dinesh though he almost looked confused, in his own economic on facial expressions way. 

      “He sent us an interesting propose. I can’t say he’ll be able to deliver what he’s trying to accomplish, but maybe he can with my company’s experience on user privacy. It could be good. I don’t know. I will know in half an hour if he bothers to show up.” 

     “Hey, do you have your company now? I didn’t know that!” Dinesh reached forward, grabbing his shoulder. It wasn't meant to be anything but excited, because he was genuinely interested in knowing what Gilfoyle was up to nowadays, but it must have been, since the other reacted to the contact by flinching away, straightening up his back, alert. “I... Hm." Dinesh brought his hand back to himself. "Thought you were teaching or something?” 

      “I was.” 

      He didn’t provide any more information. 

      And again it could have ended there, Dinesh feeling the thick layer of tension, but he didn’t want it to. He was curious. He hasn’t seen Gilfoyle in too long and, fuck, they used to be close. He used to know how that man took his coffee, his opinions on stocking socks (inside his own shoes, for some reason, even the clean ones) and that his true passions in life were weed, coding and Satanism. 

      The other day, the last time Dinesh thought of him, the annulment for his third marriage just went out and he almost called Gilfoyle. It wasn’t the first time he considered reaching out, but the whole deal with Vanessa was so freaking surreal it got him thinking about the jokes Gilfoyle would have made to his face and he genuinely almost called. Dinesh even picked up the phone, but he didn’t have Gilfoyle’s number or a motive to call he could say aloud. Adding to it how high he was, all he accomplished was ordering three pizzas and calling a guy from a coffee shop down the street that was never subtle about making eyes at him. More than once, he slid an unrequested note with a phone number with his order. 

      Dinesh told himself it was the nostalgia that made him say: 

      “You know what? You can just sit and roll here like a good boy, or we can have a drink at the bar, hm? Catch up? I’m free for half an hour.” Gilfoyle’s face was giving him nothing. But he always looked like that, didn't he? It was classic Gilfoyle. Paranoid Gilfoyle. Like the invite was somehow a trap, because that’s what they used to do. Like nothing changed. “Come on, let me buy you a drink”, Dinesh insisted, and smiled, arching his eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t act like you would pass on free drinks, dude.” 

       He didn’t wait for an answer before starting to walk to the bar. Dinesh just looked over his shoulder once, at the first step of the stairs to the private area, and nodded eagerly. Gilfoyle scanned the restaurant, sighed, then moved to follow. 

       He sat on the stool next to Dinesh with his phone over the counter. 

      "You own the place?" Gilfoyle’s arms were crossed when he asked, not having yet tried the drink Dinesh ordered for him. He was going to like it. He remembered Gilfoyle hiding a bottle of that when they were too broke to buy as many as they wanted. 

      Dinesh shook his head, confused. Gilfoyle pointed the picture hanging on the wall. 

      "Oh, no. Technically, my cousin does. He’s tacky as fuck, but he is family, so." And, technically, Dinesh paid for it, but that wasn't relevant. He didn't have more fucks to give about his cousins' new projects and just signed the checks. Co-owning a restaurant was better than founding stupid startups anyways. "So", Dinesh turned to face him, smiling again, trying not to look too eager. And he could have stayed on the script and rambled about himself, the restaurant, his beach house, the company, but Dinesh was intrigued, so he asked about Gilfoyle’s new company instead. Gilfoyle didn't answer right away, but took his time looking at him as if he was having a hard time figuring out Dinesh’s agenda. When he finally did, Dinesh understood why. 

      "It's not my company", he said, not yet touching the bourbon. Maybe he shouldn't have taken the bold move of ordering Gilfoyle a drink. Actually, he didn’t notice he was doing it until too late. Dinesh usually paid for everyone’s drinks. "I'm a consultant", he continued. "A former student of mine is the CEO. Also, the CTOs. So, I don't know, maybe it is partly mine." He shrugged. 

     "CTOs? Plural?" 

      "Three." 

      "God, this won't work", Dinesh laughed through his nose. "It was already hell with two." 

      His face kept still, but the subtle way in which his head leaned was different. Dinesh assumed it was Gilfoyle's pride bleeding over talking about a company that wasn't his own and thought or something else to say. 

       "How's Tara?", was what Dinesh came up with. 

       Gilfoyle circled a finger over the rim of the glass. "Your guess is as good as mine." 

      "Didn't she move to Canada with you?" He shouldn’t have asked that, but he didn’t notice he was doing it until too late. 

      "She did. Then she moved back." Gilfoyle took a sip of water. Dinesh watched him wipe the mustache of his beard. It was so long it touched his chest, where some ink showed under the unbuttoned collar. New tattoos. Some letters, not possible to read the full word. Looked like Latin. "Too cold for her, I guess." 

      If he was talking about the weather or their relationship Dinesh didn't know, but the guards on the walls were ready to shoot at the first sight of hostility, so he didn't ask. 

      "So, you with someone else?" 

      "Why? You interested?" 

      Dinesh laughed aloud and took a sip of his gin and tonic. He wondered if the line came from regular teasing or if that was about his disastrous coming out. He was still not really used to that information being public – it didn't really bother him, the reveal to friends and family years ago having softened the hit from the blogs; the coffees with cell numbers were just yet new. He wondered if Gilfoyle knew about that. He probably did. "I bought you a drink, haven't I?" 

     "Yeah, an overly expensive one. Trying to compensate for your tiny dick?" 

      No, it was just regular teasing. 

     "Hey, who is getting isn't complaining." 

      "A small sacrifice to get a millionaire buying you shit, I guess." 

      "God, you’re such a jerk. I missed this." And he didn’t feel the words coming out until it was too late, but once they did, Dinesh realized he didn’t care. He wouldn’t take it back if he could. It was true. Gilfoyle stiffened, discomfort showing on his tense shoulders. “Not being insulted, of course. The sincerity.” The shoulders relaxed. Maybe Dinesh didn't care for rude sincerity as much as he used to when lies were all he had to feel better about himself. Maybe he grew out of it. Maybe he just missed the game, or someone who knew his bullshit. Whatever it was, Gilfoyle was caught off-guard by the unfamiliar cease-fire and grabbed the water, ignoring the overly expensive drink Dinesh ordered for him, not knowing what to say if insults didn't work. Throwing insults was the core of their interactions.

       They sat in silence for long enough for Dinesh to feel the need to fill it. So, he pulled a new topic from his sleeve, one Gilfoyle wouldn’t be able to reply with short sentences. They were always capable of talking about tech for hours. 

       Before the end of the first glass of gin and tonic, Dinesh managed to extract details about the consultant job Gilfoyle was doing. He had a seat on the board, some shares, was respected enough to make decisions. It was good, calm. They were growing at a reasonable rhythm, having time to do things right. No one to turn all of his suggestions into arguments. He didn’t say, but Dinesh took the hint of the new place being different from the loud, restless, tiring and sometimes suicidal way they made Pied Piper together. 

      The second glass came with them arguing about crypto coins, since apparently Gilfoyle was still wrapped on that idea and was making major investments. Dinesh thought it was a just hype back then, and even now he couldn't see the appeal of playing with something you can't predict. He learned the hard way not to be reckless with his money. Gilfoyle thought differently; implied it was only reckless for someone who doesn't know what they're doing, painting the words with some provocation, suggesting Dinesh wasn't capable of following his steps. And it could have ruined their talk, but Dinesh laughed it off, said he would let it to the expert and asked for a refill. 

       The third glass wrapped them in videogames. None of them had played much lately. The topic dried fast. 

       Dinesh decided he shouldn’t get a fourth, since he still had work to do that afternoon. Gilfoyle’s first drink was still intact and warm over the counter. 

       He didn’t ask about Pied Piper and Dinesh didn’t tell him anything about Pied Piper. 

     “Anyways, I’m glad you’re back in the field and stuff. It’s just…” Dinesh flicked his tongue, exaggerating a sigh. “Man, you’re good. I mean, lots of people are good, but you’re really good. You get the little things that make a product great.” Gilfoyle looked down, to his own hands holding the glass of water, and Dinesh tapped his arm to get his attention. He didn’t flinch. “I was always mind blown by the way you came out with shortcuts.” 

      “No, you were annoyed by them”, he said as he pulled his phone from his pocket again. He hadn’t for ten minutes. Dinesh knew it because Gilfoyle was constantly checking his phone as soon as he sat down, and now he wasn’t anymore. “Because it was lazy work”, he completed, sneer highlighting the last words. 

      “I wouldn't say annoyed”, Dinesh gave shoulders. He laughed to himself. He did hate it, not because it was lazy, but because he has worked by the book his entire life, applied all the right keys, a top-of-his-class student, to have a dick achieving the same results faster by bending the rules. He expected Gilfoyle’s code to crash eventually, said it was intelligible and just bad coding, which also wasn’t true. And it wasn’t just about the coding. It was in every way he and Gilfoyle should be the same, but the other was always a step ahead without making a sweat. With work, basic human interactions, the way he felt comfortable in his own skin, and mainly daring to have a nice girlfriend when Dinesh couldn't even stand by a woman without making a fool of himself. “It just pissed the living shit out of me that you were so damn good.” 

       “I know.” 

      He was looking at him like Dinesh suddenly grew a second head, or just as if he didn’t expect the trap to be set like that, last to be caught in it. Dinesh shrugged again. It didn’t matter. He could admit it. They both always knew. 

       There was a moment too long of something, a different kind of tension that Dinesh called honesty. Gilfoyle’s eyes were huge, empty, emotionless. Right. He used to wear glasses.  

      “Contacts?” he said because he felt like he had to say something. When Gilfoyle tilted his head in confusion, Dinesh touched his own glasses to illustrate. 

       “Oh, no. I had surgery.” 

       “Really? I was thinking about doing the-…” 

       The phone buzzed over the table, the screen lighting up with a new message. They both looked at it. Gilfoyle put his finger on the scanner. 

       “Galinski is here”, he announced. 

      “Oh man, already? It was fast.” 

      It wasn’t. They were talking for an hour. 

     “Well…” Gilfoyle got up from the stool. “See you around, Chugai. If you’re feeling like being honestly insulted, you know where to find me.” 

      “Not really” Dinesh said, turning in his direction as Gilfoyle began to put the buttons of his blazer in place. It looked so weird on him. Over-dressed. Too grown up. “I don’t have your number”, he tapped his fingers on the counter, waiting. Gilfoyle didn’t offer him anything in return. When he inhaled, ready to say something, Dinesh cut the protest short with a last attempt to close the trap. “How long are you staying in town?” 

       “Monday”, Gilfoyle answered, eyes squeezing. 

      “What are you doing tonight?” 

      He could see the trap closing and stood there, hands tucked under armpits. 

      “I was planning on spitting on rich people’s heads by my hotel room’s porch”, was what he said. Dinesh frowned, but ended up snorting. 

     “Sure. Well then, you can still do…  _That_ , but after we have dinner? The guys getting together and stuff?” This time, Gilfoyle wasn’t blinking at all. It was easier to read his eyes without the glasses, but the beard still covered most of his face. And he was never too much for showing human emotions. You had to read between the lines, like the short sigh he made when Dinesh bit his lower lip and arched his eyebrows, expectant. “We meet here at seven thirty? Eight? I’m not only saying this because I have money in here and Chami is awful at running businesses, but the food is pretty good.” 

      Dinesh only noticed after a longer sigh that Gilfoyle almost looked relieved getting away from that bar. But they weren’t fighting, so he told himself it must have been his input on a  _get together_  suddenly bringing up the elephant in the room, as a  _get together_ being necessary because Gilfoyle bailed on them. 

      Gilfoyle took proud of not being hesitant, but he hesitated for half a minute before getting his phone and touching Dinesh’s over the table. The new contact info popped on the screen. 

       “Eight works better for me”, he said and walked away. 

        Dinesh watched him walk away, disappearing downstairs towards the reception. He drank the warm whiskey over the counter, since Gilfoyle hadn’t taken a sip, and grabbed the phone to call the driver.

 

 

 **II – Jared guesses**  

“You will never fucking guess who I just ran into at the Sajjad.” 

       “Dinesh… I don’t have time for this, man.” Richard rubbed his eyebrow with two fingers of the same hand he was holding a cup of coffee with. “Shit! Fuck!” and he almost dropped the drink on his shirt. 

       “Are you okay, Richard?” asked Jared, leaning into the screen as if he could go through the video chat if he just bent his shoulders in the right position. 

      “Oh no, I’m fine I jus-” 

      “Guys, come on. We are talking about my thing.” Dinesh hated those stupid video chats. He fought not to expand, but Richard put his foot down. Dinesh preferred to talk to people in the same room as he is, and he wasn't superstitious, but the last time he worked on a video chat app he almost got himself arrested. “The one you will never guess.” 

      “At the Sajjad, you say?” asked Jared. 

      “Yes! And you will never guess who…” 

      “Gilfoyle?” 

      Dinesh sat up so fast he almost bumped his head on the ceiling. The driver gave him a funny look. 

      “Wha-? How-? When did you…? Okay dude, how did you know that? That was some serious witchcraft right there.” 

      “Oh, barely. Galinski called me earlier this week. I recommended the restaurant”, Jared answer with a large smile, moving some papers over the desk with a thoughtful expression. 

       That name seemed to get Richard’s attention in a way Gilfoyle’s hasn’t. “Galinski? What that ass-face wanted with you? Did you told him to bite my shit?” 

      “None of these are things people say.” 

       “Hm, no?” Jared frowned, although in a concerned way, not as judgmental as Dinesh. “We stayed in touch after the lawsuit. A man like him can make certain things easier for us.” 

       Richard entered his office and started dropping things over the table with exaggerated force. He was clearly upset, although he would deny it to his grave. Dinesh couldn't bring himself to care for that childish tantrum. “And what did he want with you, hm? Oh, thanks” he gave a short smile to his assistant, Matt rushing to take the hot coffee out of his hands. 

       “He wanted to know in what circumstances Gilfoyle left us. If he was difficult to work with, if there were any shady details… You know, just regular survey.” 

       “And what did you say?” asked Dinesh. He couldn’t see how that would have gone well if Jared told the truth. And Jared always told the truth, except when it was to nurse Richard’s already overgrown ego. 

       “I told him the truth”, he said. “That Gilfoyle had a challenging personality and was a difficult team-player, but he meets deadlines, brings great ideas to the table and was one of the most brilliant engineers I ever worked with.” 

      Dinesh almost made an  _oh_ , but he was cut by Richard laughing and shaking his head. 

      “You know, I was pissed that you were talking to that asshole behind my back, but if you’re giving freaking Gilfoyle to him, fine. They deserve to tear each other throats open. And you know what” Richard face wrinkled, his chin coming up and chest pulling out. “You know what, that’s alright. That’s good. Give Gilfoyle a recommendation. Maybe he needs the job, I don’t know. A guy needs to eat.” 

      Dinesh was suddenly glad this was a videoconference. He didn’t know if he would be able to stop himself from giving Richard a push. 

      “Actually, he’s working with a new company. They’re making a partnership with Galinski and stuff. Well,” Dinesh looked out of the window. “You can talk to him about it all you want tonight. I told him the four of us were meeting for dinner.” 

       He wasn’t looking at the screen, but he still felt Richard glare. 

      “You can’t set dinners without telling us, Dinesh! I’m busy tonight.” 

       “Are you, Richard? Are you really?” Dinesh arched an eyebrow. 

      “What is that even supposed to mean?” 

      “Guys…” Jared put his hands up, palms down, trying to say without using words for them to take a breath. “Let’s not do this. Please?” 

      There was a pause. He wondered if the image froze, but he could see the twitch in Richard’s eye – and it wouldn’t freeze, come on. Dinesh was the one that ended up sighing, showing his hands in surrender. He didn’t want to do this, anyway. Richard was just a jerk, sometimes. Sometimes was most of the time. 

       “I think it’s a nice idea”, said Jared. He was smiling again. “Getting the band back together, hm? Oh, I’m excited. I was going to have dinner with my kids on Santa Clarita, but we can reschedule that. They need to learn how to deal with disappointment, anyway.” 

     “…Right”, was all Dinesh replied, shifting to the other part of that deal. “And you, Richard?” On the screen, Richard dropped on his chair with a tired huff. “Come on, dude. Don’t be a buzzkill. You’re the lead singer of the band.” 

       Good thing Richard always answered well to ass-kissing. He cracked up a smile. 

      “Fine”, he says rolling his eyes. “Send us the details.” 

        Dinesh ended the call telling them that he would. 

 

 

 **III – Half of an**   **OctoPiper** **is an awful band name**  

It was eight-fifteen when Gilfoyle arrived at the Sajjad. 

     Dinesh was checking e-mails on his phone, not yet bored, but distracted replying some questions from a new developer, when he caught movement approach. The new maître Chami hired after the last one quit to work at a restaurant that wasn’t ruled by a little shit led Gilfoyle to the table. He wore a blazer with snickers with too much confidence to be questioned about dress code. It felt in character, although Dinesh still expected him to walk into any place with a pair of jeans and a flannel, smelling like beer and weed. 

      “Did I made you wait long?”, asked Gilfoyle, taking the hand Dinesh offered. He smelled nice, not beer or weed. Firm handshake. 

“Not really.” The urge to arch an eyebrow had to be put down, the question weirdly falling into the  _nice_ territory. “I needed to talk to my cousin about some family stuff, so I came earlier. Anyway, no one else arrived yet.” 

       The casual softness on Gilfoyle’s expression turned into the usual blank. 

       “No one else?” he repeated, slowly. 

       “Yeah, like I said we…” Before he could finish, Dinesh let his gaze follow the familiar shapes approaching from behind Gilfoyle’s chair. “Hey, everybody at the same time! Synch.” 

      Gilfoyle looked over his shoulder, Dinesh already standing up again. Richard nodded, arranging a lock of hair out of his eyes in a way that, not for the first time, reminded Dinesh of Peter Gregory. Jared waved excitedly on their way to the table. The hoodie and messenger bag told them Richard just came out from office, and that he was too rich to be questioned about dress code. 

      “Of course”, said Gilfoyle, not standing up, neither offering a hand. He didn’t flinch when Jared touched his shoulder and lightly shook him. He glared at Dinesh instead, telling him something Dinesh wasn’t able to read in the little seconds it showed before he would turn to greet Jared. 

      Richard walked past Gilfoyle, coming to Dinesh to ask about the reviews he needed to be done at the end of the week for the board meeting. Dinesh dismissed him with quiet  _tomorrow_ , more intrigued by the way Gilfoyle’s eyes were locked on them. 

       They weren’t fighting, but Richard and Gilfoyle kind of were. 

       Maybe that was a bad idea. 

       “What was that you used to call us, Richard?” Jared asked, smiling so board Dinesh thought of sharks seeing all those teeth. “QuadriPipers?” 

       “It wasn’t us, Jared. It was our first developers. OctoPipers”, he opened a smirk, shy, but flattered, forgetting or ignoring that they were all ashamed by that awful nickname. “I don’t think it applies here.” 

       “Yeah, half of and OctoPiper is an awful band name.” Gilfoyle grabbed the menu. 

       Coming from someone else, Richard would have accepted the criticism and shrank between his shoulder, but something seemed to be going on at the table that Dinesh wasn’t aware of. He watched Richard grow bigger, haughtier, the kind of shade in his eyes that made it so hard to be near him for too long. 

       “Should we order something?” Thank God they had Jared. “I have to say, I haven’t been here in ages. What do you recommend, Dinesh?” 

      “I don’t know, I’m not the fucking waiter, Jared.” Gilfoyle’s eyes rose from the menu, meeting Dinesh’s expressive eyebrows that silently asked him  _can you believe this guy?_ They shared an accomplice look that felt too familiar. Dinesh opened the wine list. “I want a drink. Should we get a bottle?” 

       “Yeah, okay”, shrugged Richard. 

       The air rarefied and was easier to breathe after the rough introductions. When Jared asked about Gilfoyle’s new company, for a moment Dinesh tensed again, watching that shade come back to Richard’s eyes, the way his lips pressed together in a smile that was far from sociable. But then Gilfoyle started talking. It got his attention. The soldiers backed away to show genuine interest in the tech their friend was working on and Richard had questions, comments, insights. 

      It was always the tech that made them work well together. They were too different to be anything else, too sharp around the edges, too proud. 

       Gilfoyle once said none of them were friends, they just lived together and tolerated one another for the promise to becoming millionaires. That would explain why they haven’t talked to each other in years, but didn't make any sense out of why Dinesh almost called several times. 

       Jared found an opening to start talking about his sponsored orphanages, obviously trying to get a new donor. The wine arrived by then. Dinesh commented on how awesome Jared’s scholarship programs were, because they truly were and he grew soft to kids after he had his own. Gilfoyle listened, following the waiter filling the glasses. He put a hand over his own when it was his turn. Not him. The waiter moved on. 

      “You driving?” asked Dinesh, holding up his glass to take a sip. 

      “No, I took an Uber”, answered Gilfoyle.

       “You can order something else if you don’t…” 

      “I’m good. I don’t drink.” 

       Different degrees of confusion ran the table. The awareness seemed to hit all of them at the same time. 

        Jared dropped his glass and leaned forward on the table, frowning with concern. 

      “I’m not an alcoholic”, he felt the need to clarify, seeing the attention and condescension on their faces. “I don’t have a sobriety coin or a support group. I don’t drink because I don’t want to.” It didn’t sound right. “Also, my doctor said I could die. I had cirrhosis last year.” That sounded more believable. 

       Dinesh thought of asking why he didn’t say anything, but he managed to stop himself before it was too late that time. He knew the answer. Why would Gilfoyle call him, of all people, to say he was sick? It was absurd. 

       Still, it felt out of place not to know. 

       Before their food arrived, the maître came back with someone else. Bighead and some short blonde woman Dinesh was sure he had seen before, but had no idea where. The matching rings reminded him that it was his wife. Dinesh didn’t invite Bighetti, so he greeted the little pair with confusion. Richard, on the other hand, eagerly stood up to give his friend a hug, pretending this wasn't weird at all, like Bighead was as part of that half of an OctoPiper as any of them. 

      That was actually a smart move. Richard needed someone on his side at that minefield of a dinner to give him the majority. Jared being neutral ground, and Dinesh being Gilfoyle’s, he was outvoted. The Bighettis were insurance. Richard Hendricks was always insured. 

       Dinesh knew he wasn’t on Richard’s side. They never had that connection, that spontaneous willingness to share, it was never that easy for them to spend time together as it was for him and Bighead, or even him and Jared. He couldn’t remember a single meal they had that didn't revolve on work. It was somewhat easier to talk to Jared, but even that wasn’t as frequent or friendly. They talked about work and kids. That’s it. The familiarities ended there. Even when they lived together, Dinesh was on Gilfoyle’s side. It didn’t look like it, if the fact was pointed out they would deny it, but they were a united front in the moments that mattered. They had more communities, shared tastes, it was never an effort to find meaningful topics to trade comments about. 

        He missed that. 

        And Dinesh told himself he had no agenda past his longing for companionship for hosting that awkward dinner. 

       "Where are you staying?" They were at the reception. Richard, Bighead and the wife –  _Scarlett_ _–_ discussing the panel Bighead hosted at CES as they waited for their cars. Jared left earlier, so it was just the two of them. Gilfoyle was searching for a car on his phone. 

       "Hm? Oh, the Onyx Garden Hotel." 

        "Really?" Dinesh smiled, lightly tapping his arm. "That's actually on my way. I can give you a ride if you want." 

       "That's not necessary." 

       He still ended up inside Dinesh's car ten minutes later, looking out of the window as they passed through Silicon Valley, arms defensively crossed, not saying a word since Dinesh won the tug-of-war for giving him a ride back to the hotel. He wondered what the other felt coming back to the city, and if it was anything like it felt to have him back in the city. 

       "Do you miss here?" He asked, watching the lights draw lines on Gilfoyle's pale skin. 

        "Palo Alto?" It seemed like he was sighing. Dinesh noticed later it was actually a short laugh. He almost forgot how cartoony his laugh was, straight out of a character trait list for bad guys. It was too strange to be natural. "I fucking hated this place, Chugtai. Every pretentious crap, but mainly the people. Bunch of hypocrite jerks disappearing up their own assholes." 

       "To be fair, you kind of hate everywhere and everyone." 

      It looked like he was going to say something, but the moment passed and he didn't. 

      "Also, isn't like I haven't been in Silicon Valley since I moved", he said, looking out of the window. It wasn’t what he was going to say before. "I'm in the tech business, man. I've been here about three times this year." 

       Dinesh shifted on his side of the car, uncomfortable, trying hard not to ask him if it never crossed his mind to give him a call. Or fucking video chat. Or something. 

       "Was this a bad idea?" Dinesh scrapped his knee with short nails, still uncomfortable, but also suddenly nervous about this whole day. 

        "What?" 

       "The dinner. You don’t seem like you had much fun." 

       Gilfoyle faced his feet and touched his hair, the hand going down for too long for a cut that short, caressing the ghost of a long hair. It felt familiar, too. 

        "It was alright." His shoulders made a little shrug, eyes shooting to the sides of the vehicle interior. They stopped on the window again. He paused, ready to say something else, and for the second time that day Dinesh saw something he didn’t remember seeing often: hesitation. Hesitating, but avoiding to make it obvious, he said: "I just didn't realize it would be a group thing. I thought it would be just the two of us.” 

        If Dinesh stopped breathing for a moment, it was because the car stopped moving. 

        The hotel was outside the window. 

        "Well, we could... Go to my place?" 

        "Nah, it's late. I have shit to do tomorrow." Gilfoyle tapped both hands on his thighs before he would open the door. Once more, Dinesh was under the impression he was going to say something, but when he finally spoke it didn't seem to be that. "Maybe another day." 

         He opened the door to the car, got out, closed it. 

       Dinesh watched him walk away towards the hotel entrance. He wondered if Gilfoyle would look back. 

      He did. 

 

 

 **IV – Jaded asks**  

      The report greeted him by morning. It sat over his keyboard, right on the center, harmonizing with a perfectly organized desk he left a mess before leaving the day before. Colored post-its popped out of the pile of papers. 

      Dinesh ran a finger over the first page. 

      If the people he employed to do his job weren’t that good, maybe he would actually care to do his job. 

       Sitting down to read, he jumped straight to the pink post-its. Pink was the ones Chan assigned as  _big_. Not important,  _big_. It made sense, since most of them were several pages long. The guy may as well have just highlighted the whole thing. 

         Dinesh was giving a try on reading  _big_ number fivefor the nearly fifth time, his mind somewhere else, when someone knocked at his door. He woke up at the second knock. 

“Come in”, he called and the door opened. It was Jared. “Hey man, I will send the files today, okay? Just give me…” 

      “I know you will”, the other cut him, not shutting the door or fully entering the office. “It’s fine, we’re on schedule, Richard is just being too careful. The new board makes him nervous. I think he is stress eating. I probably should talk to his nutritionist…” Jared’s eyes lost focus on the wall for a moment. He snapped out of it with a blink. “Anyway, I was just passing by and wanted to check if you needed my assistance with the speech for this weekend? I’m always happy to help. And thank you again for doing this, Dinesh.” 

      “What- Oh, yeah. That. Yeah, no, it’s all good. Trust me, I know how to make an impression.” 

      “I'm sure you do”, Jared straightened his back and opened a smile. “My kids and I are very excited to hear from you.” 

      “Dude, you have to stop saying  _my kids_  like this. Just stop. It’s so creepy. You’re one Macaulay Culkin away from turning this shit into Wonderland. Just call your kids  _my kid,_ someone else’s kid is not your kid.” 

      Jared seemed about to protest. The fact that he didn’t hint Dinesh that maybe he wasn't the first person to make that note. 

       Jared excused himself, saying since Dinesh had everything in order he was going to go and give that nutritionist a call. Before he could close the door, Dinesh called again: 

       “Hey, dude!” Jared turned around. Dinesh glared, not having thought this through. Jared was giving him the usual concerned maternal frown as the pause prolonged. He had to say something. He opted for being casual. “Last night was fun, right?” 

      “Yes, it was nice. If we had more time, maybe we could’ve had Erlich joining us. Thank you for suggesting it, Dinesh. I think it was good for Richard. Going out. Seeing people. He needed it.” Jared must have sensed something else behind that question, because he didn’t try to leave again. “Looks like Gilfoyle is doing great.” 

      “He sold his shares for a shit ton of money, of course he’s doing great.” 

       “That’s not what I meant. I meant…” A long sigh escaped Jared and was followed by a short pause. “He was always so… damaging, wasn’t he? Don’t get me wrong, I know he has done a lot for us. Gilfoyle is such a great programmer, but… I’m sure you understand. It could be difficult, sometimes. With him. Maybe we were just meant for friendship, not business. I always had this fear we may have done the wrong decision, but seeing him again… I have to say, I get it. Do you know what I mean?” 

       Shit, he did get it. 

       It still felt like a kick in the stomach when he got that phone call from Richard saying Gilfoyle was out. 

       Dinesh wasn’t actually surprised that he left; it was coming since those big Hooli officers. If anything, it lasted longer than anyone expected. What he was surprised by - and a little pissed - was that who called him that night was Richard. 

       “Yeah, I know” said Dinesh. “Well, I’ll get back to this before Richard rip out my balls.” 

        Jared gave him a boneless laugh and began to get away for the second time. Something seemed to bother him, though, because he came back in once more. 

        “I was always curious about something, but I didn’t think it was any of my business to ask.” 

       Dinesh arched his eyebrows, Jared looking at him as if he was expecting the other to grand him permission to ask his question. It came in form of a nonchalant wave of hand. Jared pressed the clipboard against his chest and asked: 

       “Did something happen between you and Gilfoyle?” 

       If Dinesh stopped breathing for a moment, it was because he was running away from that question for a very long time. 

        He dropped the report he was still holding on the desk and crossed his arms. 

       “No, nothing ever happened”, he answered. Jared nodded, understanding. He would have taken that and never asked again, but Dinesh noticed that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, so he said: “But…” The understanding in Jared’s eyes turned into attention. Dinesh’s guards were so tired of the watch. “Sometimes we had those…  _Moments_ , you know? Like it could.” 

        The nod the other made looked more confused than enlightening, but he was trying to keep his position as a generator of safe spaces. He wouldn’t overstep. Dinesh waited for something, a reaction, anything that would confirm that he actually just said those words aloud. It was merely a sentence. A question and an answer. Funny to think a few seconds were enough to bring to life something he has always denied existence. 

       Suddenly, Jared gasped and his face was a mess of emotions. 

      “ _Oh_ ”, he said, eyes wide. 

       It wasn’t the reaction he expected. A laugh, even, but not surprise. Not after he specifically made the question. 

      “Oh”, said Dinesh. He covered his eyes with a palm and cursed under his breath. “You meant if we had a fight, didn’t you?” 

       “Well, yes, but…” Dinesh couldn’t bring himself to look at the other again. His face was burning. He felt twenty-six, holding Gilfoyle’s laptop for him as he plugged pieces of Anton together and they talked about coders being unfit and unable to fight. His skin burned every time Gilfoyle’s hand touched his arm to push him around, but it wasn't real. “It sorts of make sense, actually.” 

       Dinesh looked up. 

       “You two always had this… Energy. But I didn’t know Gilfoyle was also homosexual? I mean, maybe I’m just bad at telling. I didn’t know about you, either.” 

       It was Jared. Of course he would be nice. 

       “I don’t think he is”, Dinesh said, uncertain, since he never had more than a few comments that may as well be misunderstandings, Gilfoyle saying some guy was  _too hot_  for Dinesh to compete against, or a person he dated in college named Alex that, by context, could either be guy or a girl. He never had the nerve to openly ask, because it would make it all real. But it was too late to deny it's existence. And Dinesh had no reason to anymore. He decided to stop pretending since Aleena left him. 

       “You know when there’s that person in your life that you kind of think:  _yeah, this is going to happen_. And you don’t even force it or look up for it, it’s just an obvious outcome that you embrace as an inevitable truth. I’m going to end up fucking that person.” 

     Jared didn’t seem to get it, but he was trying to keep the judgment away from sight. 

      “It was kind of that with him, sometimes”, Dinesh said. “But then it just didn’t.” 

      Jared closed the door, making an attempt to privacy that Dinesh much appreciated. Normally, that way Jared nursed over everyone annoyed him to death, but Dinesh was glad to have it now. Jared was a pretty nice guy. 

      “Do you think it went both ways?” 

       “Fuck me if I know what happens inside that prick’s head.” Dinesh laughed. He took a blue post-it from  _light_ out of the report. He and Chan had to talk about organization metrics. He could feel Jared’s condescension. It didn’t anger him enough for him to stop talking. “Hey, do you remember that time when you quit and we drove to Stanford with Anton? We almost lost everything.” 

      It wasn’t offered, but Jared took a sit in one of the chairs in front of Dinesh’s desk anyway and said he did. 

       “After we left Richard, we drove back to the house. And I remember we didn’t even question it, it wasn’t spoken, we just decided that we were going to have our own startup. We pitched ideas back and forth the whole drive and was as you said, it sort of totally made sense. So, we got to the house and we were in the garage drinking that shitty dark beer Gilfoyle always drank and shitting on Richard for being an asshole, and he said something… What it was…? I don’t know. Anyways, he said something funny. I remember I touched his leg. Like, just a pat, a  _you’re killing me here dude_  pat, you know? That kind. I don’t think I was drunk, but maybe I was a little. But then… He did this.” Dinesh touched Jared’s hand. He wasn’t crazy. He knows what happened. He circled a thumb over the back of Jared’s hand, as Gilfoyle did to him that day. 

       Uncomfortable, Jared pushed his hand from underneath Dinesh’s touch. “It does feel… suggestive.” 

      “I know, right? And I remember thinking,  _fuck, my breath must smell like eggs_ , because we stopped on the way to have breakfast, and he was just there looking at me like he was waiting for, I don’t know, something.” Dinesh scratched the side of his face.

      “Then what happened?” 

       “You called me", Dinesh said and snorted. He threw himself against the back of his chair and pulled his eyebrows up. "To say we should go meet you and Richard at that insurance company? You called right at that moment.” 

       Jared looked so confused and hurt it reminded Dinesh of that time he told him he booked the wrong K-Pop group for Josh's birthday. 

      “I’m sorry”, he said, and he truly sounded apologetic. 

      “It wasn’t your fault, man”, Dinesh laughed softly, more to lighten the mood than for the funny quality of Jared taking the blame of the wrong things that happened between him and his ex-co-CTO. Come to think of it, it was indeed very funny that Jared thought he was to blame. They were a train wreck. It was nobody's fault but their own. "It was probably for the best. You know how we were." 

     As he said those words, he watched Jared's face assume a solicitous quality, as if he had some insight to make on that but wouldn’t overstep. Dinesh opened his mouth to ask. Jared's phone started ringing. 

      “Shoot", he cursed, reading the screen, and turned an apologetic look to Dinesh. "I'm sorry, I forgot I’ve to pick up my kids today." That, too, was probably for the best. He said more than he should. Jared had more to do than to listen to old office gossip. Dinesh jumped on the new topic throwing Jared a pointing glare, making himself zoom out of what they were talking about a second ago. “Actually my kids", he explained. "Not orphanage kids." 

       "Right. Yeah." Dinesh frowned. "Don't you have someone to do this for you?"  

       "Usually, yes. But my babysitter’s sister had triplets and she can no longer assist me.” 

      "Didn't she warn you before? That's messed up." 

     "Oh no, she did. But I'm still doing interviews", he got up from the chair, taking the clipboard. "I feel like I haven't found the right person to keep an eye at Denise, you know? Joshua is easygoing, but she can be... challenging." 

      “I hear you." That girl was freaking scary, to say the least. Sometimes, Dinesh wondered if Jared adopted her out an abandoned murder house or something. Or if she was his biological child. Both would fit. "I’ll text you the contact of the agency I worked with.” 

      "Thanks, Dinesh, that would be very helpful", he said at the door, half of his body out of the office, half inside. Jared paused for a moment, not leaving or staying, but pondering. Dinesh shook his shoulders, raising an eyebrow at him. "You know, I'm probably overstepping, but...", he sighed. "If it bothers you, maybe try giving Gilfoyle a call?" 

       If Dinesh stopped breathing for a moment, it was because he wanted to. 

       "You're right", he said. "You're overstepping, dude." 

       Jared apologized before he left closing the door, leaving Dinesh alone with his report. 

 

 

 **Phone call (since Dinesh hates video chats)**  

 _Dinesh Chugtai (xx-_ _xxx_ _-_ _xxxx_ _). Date: 15/06/2028. Time 10:51 AM. Duration:_ _2min56seg_

 

"'Sup?" 

"Hey! It's me. Dinesh." 

"I can see your face in my screen, I know who it is, Chugtai. Also, who still calls?" 

"You mean, the thing phones are made for?" 

"Fuck, you're an old man." 

"Shut up.  _You_ are an old man." 

"So please, don't waste the little time I have left. What do you want?" 

"I... Well. Actually, I was thinking about the stuff you said yesterday about the implications of a decentralized data storage applied to small countries regular surveillance laws, and I was taking a look at some of our institutionalized accounts and reviewing the permissions with what you pointed out in mind, and I stumbled over something that I could use your eye on?" 

"What is it?" 

"I rather just show you. Can we-?" 

"Shouldn't you be showing it to your CEO?" 

"Sure, yeah, but it isn't really anything serious and he will probably overreact. You know Richard. It's just something I think we could do better, you know? Be a step ahead." 

"The work of the staff you supervised being able to be done better? It doesn't exactly shock me, no." 

"So, do you want to take a break from spitting on people's heads by your hotel's porch and come over? I can have my driver picking you up." 

"No, that-" 

"Or I can text you the address." 

"I-" 

"Do you want to meet at the Sajjad again? Somewhere else?" 

"I'm not in Palo Alto, Chugtai." 

"Oh. I thought... But you said Monday, right?" 

"Yeah, I know what I said. Something came up. I'm between flights right now, going to fucking Seoul for a few days." 

"Something interesting?" 

"Just taking a look at manufacturers. You know the deal." 

"Yeah, sure." 

"Mhmm." 

"I guess some other day, then?" 

_(6sec silence on the line)_

"I'll be back in geek town Wednesday." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. I'm just seeing some stuff with Galinski and going back to Canada the next day, but I can take a look at your shit if you feed me. To make sure you don't fuck it up." 

"And I'll make sure we don't serve any goat or black chicken not to disrespect your family members." 

"No goat, no chicken and with you not eating pork, I'm starting to regret this vegan invite." 

"I'll have a slaughterhouse for you on Wednesday, don't worry." 

"Wednesday it is." 

"And good luck on your meeting!" 

"Pardon my Korean, but you can stick luck up your asshole. I've never depended on luck in my life. Anyways, I'm good with sushi. Until then." 

 

 

 **Text Messages (since** **calls** **are** **an old people thing and Dinesh isn't old)**  

 

 ** _Sent 13:14 PM:_** Hey man, turns out Richard was having the same thoughts as me. He's thinking throwing in a clausure, I'm thinking it's more of a code structure kind of deal. Any views?

 _Received_ _13_ _:_ _21_ _P_ _M:_ check the module loops, it may be simpler than that

 

 ** _Sent_ _19_ _:30_ _PM_ : **I fucking hate you. You were right.

 _Received_ _19_ _:_ _35_ _P_ _M:_ i feel like our co existence wouldve been simpler if you had realized earlier that im always rice

 _Received_ _19_ _:_ _35_ _P_ _M:_  *right

 ** _Sent_ _19_ _:36_ _PM_ :** Oh, the pain of that typo...

 _Received_ _19_ _:_ _37_ _P_ _M:_  fuck u

 

 _Received_ _20_ _:_ _53_ _P_ _M:_ vegan dinner canceled? 

 ** _Sent_ _20_ _:_ _55_ _PM_ : **?

 ** _Sent_ _20_ _:_ _55_ _PM_ : **Why?

 _Received_ _20_ _:_ _56_ _P_ _M:_ im assuming u have hendricks on board by now?

 ** _Sent_ _20_ _:_ _58_ _PM_ : **I can use a fresh pair of eyes.

 ** _Sent 20:58 PM:_** And I already cleared my schedule, so.

 _Received _21_ _:00_ _P_ _M:__ do you always schedule your jerk off sessions or are wednesdays special?

 ** _Sent_ _21_ _:0_ _9_ _PM_ : **After all the trouble I went through to find an animal that wasn’t related to you, you're not cancelling on me.

 _Received 21:10 PM:_ dont blame me for your blueballs later

 

 ** _Sent_ _7_ _:_ _17_ _A_ _M_ : **Going to present our new police. No tie or tie says better "I would rather eat my own shit than be here"?  

 _Received_ _7_ _:_ _20_ _A_ _M_ : ur asking the wrong person for fashion advice chugtai  

 

 _Received_ _7_ _:_ _4_ _2_ _A_ _M_ : only douchebags and mormons wear ties. 

 _Received_ _7_ _:_ _42_ _A_ _M_ : sorry bout the redundancy

 _Received_ _7_ _:_ _44_ _A_ _M_ : only douchebags wear ties

 ** _Sent_ _7_ _:_ _43_ _A_ _M_ : **Too late, I'm already in the car and I have it on. 

 

 ** _Sent_ _10_ _:_ _43_ _A_ _M_ : **Just so you know, someone just complimented my dressing choice.

 _Received_ _11_ _:_ _02_ _A_ _M_ : good for u, strengthening the ties with the blind community 

 ** _Sent_ _11_ _:_ _44_ _A_ _M_ : **lol

 _Received_ _11_ _:_ _45_ _A_ _M_ : did u just fucking loled me?

 ** _Sent_ _11_ _:_ _46_ _A_ _M_ : **You type like a teenager and I can't use an abbreviation?

 _Received_ _11_ _:_ _47_ _A_ _M_ : its an acronym, actually

 ** _Sent_ _11_ _:_ _47_ _A_ _M_ : **STFU

 _Received_ _11_ _:_ _48_ _A_ _M_ : see? a douchbag in a tie 

 

 _Received_ _7_ _:_ _26_ _A_ _M_ : hey send me your location

 ** _Sent_ _7_ _:_ _28_ _A_ _M_ : **You here? Which airport?

 _Received_ _7_ _:_ _28_ _A_ _M_ : don't come with fucking flowers, just send your location

 ** _Sent_ _7_ _:_ _29_ _A_ _M_ : **I was going to send a car to be nice, but now you can fuck yourself.

 

 _Received _7_ _:5_ _7_ _P_ _M_ : _ i'm outside

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> My initial plan was to post the whole fic as an oneshot, but I got halfway through the chapter list (it will be 10) and it was this big already, so I figured why not break it into parts? Also I'm dying for new Dinfoyle content, so, if anyone is too, take a sip.  
> Sorry for any odd English part, it isn't my first language (I'm always open if you want to point out mistakes).


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